


Holly Heavens

by MoonySmith



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Drag Queen, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonySmith/pseuds/MoonySmith
Summary: In desperation, Lestrade goes to Sherlock for help to catch a murder suspect. Nothing out of the ordinary about it, only this time, Sherlock decides to sneak undercover into an exclusive Drag Queens club in order to get close enough to the killer they're after. The biggest problem now is that Greg starts reacting to this new image of his friend.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Kudos: 48





	Holly Heavens

**Author's Note:**

> I had this weird idea and wrote it some time ago but I made a few changes after translating to English...

Greg had been lost in his thoughts longer than he would like to admit. His gaze stuck in some random spot in the wall in front of him in the office as he kept touching his lips with his fingertips.

His team had been a little over two weeks completely focused on a single case: Todd Bailey, a murderer not entirely creative in his way of acting, but a complete expert at the time of gathering an alibi good enough not to let his team sleep. It probably wasn't the most complicated of his career, but the suspect had been really smart at the time of hiding. So much had been Lestrade's despair that he had to call Sherlock. Of course, the case itself wasn't even a five on the consultant's own measurement chart, but it was driving the Inspector crazy and Sherlock probably saw that and took pity on him.

That was a week ago and Sherlock had quickly gotten some confidential information on the suspect. Their original idea had been to find a pressure point enough to extort and get the information they needed... The result of the said search was that the man went to pubs where there were performances of drag queens. The term, of course, had been completely unknown to Greg, and after Sherlock rolled his eyes in front of him and explained his total ignorance with annoyance, he couldn't suppress his mouth from opening in a bit of a shock. So, the murderer liked attending to these bars, enjoy a couple of drinks and the show of men dressed as women performing lip syncs of popular songs. Obvious. Greg had to confess to himself that the action didn't sound entirely crazy. He would probably end up enjoying one of those shows himself if he had the time or desire to go and attend one. Something he wouldn't admit to in front of anyone, of course.

The next idea that came out of the head of Sherlock would be for him to occupy a spot for a couple of nights in the bar.

"A spot?" Greg had asked, arching an eyebrow while at the same time trying to concentrate on staying awake after the last cup of coffee he'd taken.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, exasperated, "A spot in the show, Lestrade. Do keep up, please," he replied quickly and Lestrade had to swallow to stop himself from thinking for a moment about what he had just heard.

"You...?" He took a deep breath, focusing better on Sherlock's boring look. "Are you going to dress like a woman and put on a show to get the information?"

"Congratulations, you've done it." Sherlock joined his hands in a clap and faked a smile at him.

"You know we have a team that is capable of…"

"Don't be an idiot, they'll ruin it and I have experience in it. I had to do it for a few months while I was in the States," admitted Sherlock with indifference, without giving away more information.

Lestrade blinked a couple of times in his direction, trying not to think enough about Sherlock dressed as a woman.

He had accepted, of course. Sherlock was a professional when he was determined and there was no doubt he would get what they needed before any expert on his team even tried to.

Sherlock had five long nights undercover as a drag queen in the bar that Bailey used to go. Lestrade hadn't had a chance to see him because he wasn't supposed to be there on any of those nights to not cause any suspicion, but Sherlock had informed him that in addition to his own preparation, Molly Hooper had gone to assist him with makeup and a couple of other details he would miss.

That's why Lestrade was now staring at a fixed spot on the wall while imagining Sherlock in his night show.

"Dammit," he muttered softly as he accommodated in his seat and noticed the semi-erection that his own thoughts had caused.

And of course, Donovan had chosen that exact moment to show up through the office door. Lestrade flinched but settled back into his seat, moving it forward so that the bottom of his body was completely hidden by the desk.

"Bailey's gonna show up at the club today. It's tonight or never, Greg," she informed him barely looking up from her phone and he hummed in response. When she did look up, she put on a grimace before asking, "Have you talked with the _freak_?"

He tilted his head slightly and gave her a warning look, yet he replied calmly, "He hasn't had any problems and seems to have already made friends there."

Lestrade tried very hard not to start imagining again any kind of show performed by the younger. He didn't want to make his already uncomfortable situation worse.

"Finally a place where he belongs," she commented with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Sally…"

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Okay, I know; I'm sorry," she sighed. "Who's coming tonight?"

He gave her the list of the names of his team that would attend that night with them, meanwhile, they'll be waiting at the bar for Sherlock's signal, as the rest of the team would be in charge of blocking every exit of the place in case Bailey wanted to escape, and most likely, he would.

"And the doctor…" Sally grimaced again.

"Watson," Greg helped her and then shook his head. "He's out of the city."

"Like the old days then, huh?" she added before giving him a nod, then she arched an eyebrow but smiling. "I think tonight's gonna be interesting."

The sergeant finally left his office, closing the door behind her and Greg let out a sigh of relief, slightly moving his chair back to adjust his trousers a bit better in the crotch. Still too uncomfortable to accept that the problem he had there before Donovan entered his office was the result of imagining Sherlock Holmes as a drag queen.

That night was really going to be interesting.

\- - -

Greg and Sally took over their places at the bar, side by side with their backs to the small stage surrounded by dim lights. The place was really dark but Greg knew that as soon as the show started, he would have no trouble observing what was necessary with the rest of the lights on.

During the afternoon, Sherlock had informed him that he had indeed met Bailey the night before when he had used his VIP membership in the club and had entered the dressing rooms to meet the artists of the night. Sherlock being the novelty had completely caught his attention and it was no wonder that that night would be in the front row to witness the show.

None had seen if Todd had arrived yet, and of course, they shouldn't look suspicious either right there, so in the meantime, they asked for a round of drinks for themselves while they waited.

At least they could use the time to catch up on their lives.

Sally was a really reserved person, Greg didn't know as much about her life as she probably knew about him. The thing about Sally was that she could be really unpleasant when she puts her mind to it and since Sherlock appeared, Sally behaved in such a disrespectful and discourteous way that after a while, Lestrade couldn't stand it anymore. Maybe he was taking this too seriously because of his overprotective urge over Sherlock when they met, but if she could make fun of someone just like that, she didn't deserve his time and in the end, their relationship turned completely professional as coworkers. 

But a few years had passed and perhaps Sally had understood what had happened with Greg because now all that remained was the nickname "freak".

Anyway, for that moment, he allowed himself to forget everything because he was a little more concentrated trying not to think that in just a few more minutes, he would finally see what Sherlock had been hiding and couldn't lie to himself and the anxiety he was already feeling.

"I must admit that sometimes work has its perks," Sally told him just a few seconds after receiving the second round of drinks. "This definitely counts as a break." She pointed to the glass in her hand and then gently tapped Greg's arm, "Hanging out with the boss and... to see Sherlock Holmes make a fool of himself in a club. Priceless."

Maybe it wasn't the most Orthodox thing to do, but he'll let it pass one night.

Lestrade couldn't help but laugh low, accepting that he hadn't even gone out for a drink in months. He and John had started going out to some bar at least one night a week to relax —especially from Sherlock, but after a few months, Lestrade's work had again become so stressful and demanding that he had to cancel his relaxing nights. He didn't realize how much he missed them until now.

"Can I record it?" Sally asked, still smiling. "I'm sure Phillip would pay to see that."

Greg took the glass of beer to his lips and took a long sip, slowly lowering it.

He smiled at her. "You know very well you won't be able to, but I'm absolutely sure you won't stop mentioning it for a while."

Both laughed and continued chatting as they waited.

Lestrade had taken it upon himself to look around from time to time, looking for no one really, he knew Sherlock would let them know that Todd wasn't attending or if anything else happened, but he was a little more attentive to the public inside there. He had been a little surprised when he noticed it was full.

It was a little after the third round that the music stopped and the lights had gone out completely.

Greg's stomach dropped when he turned in his seat, getting ready.

" _The moment you've all been waiting for has arrived_ ." The lights around the stage began to flicker around a man dressed in a striking two-piece suit and a top hat, holding firmly the microphone he was speaking into. "Our first queen is also our new member, so be gentle," he continued to speak as people cheered. Greg felt his heart pounding very hard in his chest. "Just recently arrived from New Cross, she has made it quite clear to us that she's probably the best when it comes to spitting out the tea, right?" He winked at the audience. "I warn you, though, despite her name, please don't be fooled, because even if you find her on the side of the angels, she's definitely not one of them." The public shouted excitedly. "Tonight, ladies, gentlemen, and others, I present in front of you... _Holly Heavens_!

"What?" Sally by his side exclaimed in shock, followed by loud laughter when the music began to play.

 _Holly Heavens_ , Greg repeated in his head.

The music at first was slow and seductive. But it had only lasted long enough for Sherlock to get on stage and flirt a bit with the audience. His slim figure covered in a long black fur coat, which was definitely not much like the Belstaff he usually wore, as it was much more accentuated at his waist. He was clearly wearing heels because, at the time, Greg could certainty claim him to be over fifteen centimetres in height.

People continued to clap and scream, and then Sherlock opened his coat, extending his arms and dropping it on the floor. Someone from below quickly took it out of his way and then the real music began and the flickering lights went on.

Sherlock danced and moved freely on stage, while his lips, flawlessly painted red, imitated the lyrics of the song perfectly synchronized.

Greg blinked once.

And twice.

And three times after, trying to get used to the image in front of him.

"Wow," Donovan exclaimed by his side.

Greg swallowed.

 _Wow_ , indeed.

The song Sherlock had chosen couldn't have been more appropriate, Greg thought. Knowing him from so many years ago, and the sort of things he would do before finally settling. Lestrade definitely must have heard it in his early twenties when he would go out and have fun at gay bars with his friends, but now he was sure he wouldn't be able to associate it to anyone else ever again.

" _I wanna be a toy! I can't be treated like any other boy that you see!_ " The song said and Greg felt hypnotized by the whole sight.

While watching Sherlock act and now flirting quite clearly with a particular man (Bailey), Greg allowed himself to admire Sherlock's figure with more detention: he wore a red, long, smooth wig, adapting to his 80s punk style; underneath his coat, he had decided to wear a tight black corset under a bra of the same colour. He wore long gloves that stretched to the top of his elbows; at the bottom, he wore a grey skirt that was long enough to allow some of his underwear to be seen every time he turned, which was also held by black suspenders to the length of the dark stockings that reached up to his thighs. And further down followed a pair of wide-heeled shoes. Greg hadn't had enough time to notice the other details, although he wanted, he could barely see the makeup Sherlock wore, besides the tone of his lips.

Deep down he was sorry that the song wouldn't be long enough and that, as soon as it ended, he would have to return to his reality and then wait a little longer for what they actually went to do there.

Sherlock was able to flex his knees and bend down smoothly, pointing a couple of times at someone in the audience, emphasizing the lyrics of the song.

Suddenly, Greg noticed that his body had reacted again to Sherlock, only now it was no longer just part of his imagination. He was seeing him right before him, flesh and bone.

He cursed softly, before taking a sip from the forgotten glass he had been holding in his hand the entire time.

As soon as the show was over and the lights had gone out once again, Greg took the opportunity to accommodate the uncomfortable semi-hard erection in his pants and turned his back to the stage again.

Strangely enough, he realized he was slightly hurt that Sherlock didn't notice him even for a second. Not a single glance in his direction. Although if he thought about it well enough, it was better that way because if the image alone had been enough to provoke his enthusiasm, he wasn't sure in what state a look at _that_ Sherlock would have left him in.

He'd continue overthinking for a while longer, but Sally had turned too, "Wow!" she repeated, now followed by a burst of laughter.

Greg shook his head, trying to come back from his thoughts. He cleared his throat and grinned at the woman. "That was the furthest thing from making a fool, Sherlock Holmes has ever been," said Lestrade before joined the laugh with her. "I bet Anderson's head would have exploded before his show ended!"

Donovan laughed out loud this time.

"You were right, it was better for him not to see this," she agreed. Then she leaned against the bar, looking directly at Greg. "There's no way this was the first time the freak did this. That was professional."

Lestrade tried to hide the grin behind the rim of the glass. He wouldn't be able to admit to Sally that Sherlock had, in fact, told her that he'd done this before. Which he didn't need to imagine anymore.

\- - -

After several minutes of chatting with Donovan, Greg felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He gave Sally a signal by her side and made sure the rest of the team was in place before standing up and walking to the exclusive and comfortable sofa where Sherlock and Bailey were sitting now. The latest was perhaps too close to the younger for Lestrade's taste. He had also accomplished to avoid and turn to look at him during the night to prevent the same unusual sensation it has on his body before.

Out of this new character, and in his own distinct confidence and security, Sherlock stood up as Greg and Sally approached, and smirking he picked up his phone hidden inside his bra, to show them that he had the recording of Todd Bailey admitting that he had murdered his ex-partner and his friends out of jealousy. As Greg approached to make the detention, he noticed the strong, swallowing odour emanating from Bailey's body and grimaced.

"Well done, _Holly_ , " remarked Sally in the direction of Sherlock.

Greg did his best to avoid looking at Holmes, he knew that it wouldn't take long for his imagination or his body to react to this image, so he took it upon himself to take Bailey out of the club as quickly as he could.

Only a few people around them had noticed what had happened so it was really easy to get out of there without getting too much attention.

Once he let Bailey into the back seat of the cruiser that would take him back to the Yard, Lestrade turned to his side when he saw Sherlock there, waving with his hand at Bailey and a clear mocking smile on his lips. Greg couldn't help laughing until Sally came to his side.

"Back to the office, sir?" she asked.

Lestrade turned to see her and grimaced.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to go back there after drinking alcohol," he said seriously but smiling. She raised her eyebrows. "Come on, it won't be a problem if he spends the night locked up…"

But Sally interrupted him by rolling his eyes.

"I'll go and make sure everything is alright," she told him, and Greg tilted his head to the side, but still smiling. Sally added, "Sir."

"Alright," he answered, nodding.

Sally mirrored his last action, then fixed her jacket and led to the same cruiser.

"By the way, good show…" she commented to Sherlock turning back, Greg was sure that sentence was going to be followed by an insult, but apparently Sally resisted.

As soon as the woman got in the car and left, Lestrade turned to Sherlock again.

"Shall I come with you?" he asked him gently, but the other just shrugged in response.

"I'll get my bag."

"Won't you change first?" Lestrade noticed that at least Sherlock had managed to grab his coat to cover himself before going out.

"No, the sooner we get out of here, the better," he said before turning on his heels and entering back to the club.

It didn't take him long to get back and then in a matter of minutes both of them were already inside a cab headed to Baker Street.

The truth was that Lestrade was a little uncertain of letting Sherlock going back to his apartment alone and dressed like that, so he'd rather it be him than anyone to leave him right in front of the building's door and then go back to his own tiny flat and maybe remember in his head some scenes from an hour ago. Maybe.

They were sitting next to each other, Sherlock, who had removed his wig and the pins holding his hair as soon as they had entered the car, was staring at his phone screen and Lestrade mentally cursed because he suddenly had the urge to look at him and observe every detail of his clothing and make-up, sure he wouldn't be able to have this opportunity in his life ever again. He was trying to control his impulses by looking at the streets through the window instead.

As soon as the cab stopped outside the apartment, Greg was waiting for Sherlock to get out of the car without saying goodbye, or something typical of him, but when he turned his head towards him, he saw that Sherlock was still not moving, the phone screen in his hand was already turned off.

"Maybe... you…" Sherlock stopped, his gaze now fixed on his lap, it wasn't natural to hear Sherlock hesitate, "You could come up with me."

Lestrade didn't think twice and agreed quickly before paying the cabbie.

They climbed the stairs quietly, Mrs Hudson seemed to be asleep and they preferred not to wake her.

"I'll put the kettle on," offered Greg, heading to the kitchen after Sherlock turned on the lights in the living room. Lestrade didn't question why the younger would suddenly want company at that time, but he had to admit that he didn't mind delaying his return to his lonely apartment anyway. When he finished his task, he turned to meet Sherlock, who was still wearing the long coat, standing in the middle of the room, staring at him. "What's wrong?"

"I saw you looking."

Lestrade frowned. "Looking?"

"Me." Then he shook his head. "Well, not looking. Avoiding looking at me. I don't understand the problem. Are you uncomfortable seeing me like this?"

"I…" He felt Sherlock's eyes burning his gaze as he was waiting for an answer and Greg wasn't sure what to say at all.

"You like it." Sherlock tilted his head to one side and his prior expression faded as he smiled. Greg could feel the warmth of his body driving straight to his face. His breathing had quickened and he saw in Sherlock's gaze that he had understood the situation completely. He found it out and he would expose him or make fun of him. "It makes you uncomfortable because you like it and you're confused that you're attracted to a man dressed as a woman," he stated.

Lestrade couldn't help but look down for a moment but lift his head again when he noticed what Sherlock had just said.

"I'm not confused," he declared.

"But…"

"I'm not confused because I'm attracted to a man. I know the inclination of my preferences, thank you very much." He raised his eyebrows waiting for Sherlock to understand what he had just told him and smiled when he noticed that an "o" had formed in the other man's mouth. But then he shook his head. "It makes me uncomfortable because it's _you_ , you idiot."

"Me? What's the matter with me?" he asked defensively.

"That I know you, Sherlock. That you're a friend and I can't... have these... feelings for you," he ended up saying. He wasn't completely sure that what was going on there was exactly the fault of the feelings or just something entire physical and temporary, but he didn't know how to define what it was at the time.

"Then I don't see any problem with that," Sherlock said," It just confirms to me that at least the sentiment is mutual."

Lestrade opened his eyes a little wider and swallowed hard as he watched Sherlock walk slowly towards him, feeling every step of his heels on the floor like a bang to his chest.

The next thing happened faster than he expected, he might have wanted to know how to react better because Sherlock hadn't stopped until their bodies were only inches away. Lestrade could feel the strong scent of a different perfume in the other man. And he wouldn't deny later, that the new fragrance has been a great help as an encouragement to take him by his coat and pull him so that he could join his lips in a sloppy kiss.

Greg recognized that the sensation of his lips on his own was softer than he had ever imagined and he had to hold on tighter to his coat when Sherlock let out a groan once their tongues joined. As he continued to kiss him, he carried his arms over Sherlock's shoulders, standing on his toes to be at his height. The new position helped Sherlock bring his own hands to the inspector's waist, pushing him against the counter behind him.

"Shit," complained Greg when he broke the kiss, still holding on, he looked at him, panting.

"My room," Sherlock muttered, and Greg nodded. Turning to turn off the kitchen where the teapot had left to boil, completely forgotten.

Sherlock was already walking into the room when Greg turned around again.

He swallowed.

This was really gonna happen, wasn't it?

He wasn't going to allow his brain to start questioning now what might happen after, how things were going to change between them. No, he didn't need that now, so he decidedly walked through the kitchen until he got to Sherlock's room. He had turned the lamp on and the dim light revealing his slim figure, Greg licked his lips when he saw the man standing at one side of his bed, the pair of silk gloves on one side of his feet, now on the floor. His hands rested on his coat, ready to take it off.

"Let me, please," he asked when he was in front of him, Sherlock nodded in silence.

Greg put his hands inside the coat and gently brought them from Sherlock's chest to his shoulders, where he slowly began to remove it, letting it fall from his soft arms. His gaze was fixed on his figure for a moment. Then he let his hands rest on his chest.

He lifted his head to see Sherlock better when the coat had already been forgotten on the floor; his lipstick had run off the edges of his lips and Greg could bet that much of it was now on his own lips.

"You look beautiful," he muttered, looking now at his eyes and how the dark shadow on his eyelids highlighted their indescribable colour much better. Sherlock sighed before approaching again, taking him by the neck and kissing him again. As if it were possible, with much more passion than the first time. And after a moment Greg felt he was being pushed toward the bed, where the back of his knees hit the mattress, causing him to fall until he sat on it, making him separate from Sherlock's lips, and now that he had tasted them, he felt like he couldn't live far from them anymore.

In that quick change of position, he was first aware of the erection that had appeared inside his underwear, feeling his pants too tight around the crotch. Without hesitation, he carried his hands up to the hip of the younger, where he could also notice very clearly how hard he also was underneath the slatted skirt, and Greg lifted his head to see Sherlock's hungry look. Gently, Greg let his fingers caress the fabric covering his hips and it wasn't long enough until Sherlock let out loud a desperately sigh. He carried his own hands behind his back, lifting his chest a little higher, and Greg felt that he would die if he saw something as perfect as that again. The skirt had loosened and once Lestrade moved his hands away, it fell to Sherlock's feet.

And Greg would promise to himself that nothing in life had ever prepared him for the image in front of him. He knew that Sherlock Holmes was probably the most fascinating creature he had ever met, but having the privilege of seeing him in this situation only reminded him that there was so much that he didn't know about him.

The other man's shaft line was much clearer now, beneath the dark and delicate silk of his underwear. Greg was sure that if he pulled up a bit the corset he would be able to see the tip of his cock, making his giving a twitch inside his pants.

"Lestrade…" Sherlock moaned in a needy way, bringing his hands up to Greg's head and touching his hair with so much gentleness, that from the passion and desire in his gaze, he could tell that Sherlock might have something for his hair and Greg couldn't help but feel proud about it.

Instead, he muttered back, "Tell me." He left his lips slightly apart as he inhaled and exhaled heatedly.

"I want you," he said, pulling softly a handful of hair to remark his words, "Inside me, _please_."

"Fuck," Greg grumbled, grabbing the other man by his hips again. "Come here."

Sherlock crawled onto the bed and ended up straddling his lap and Lestrade began massaging his thighs from top to bottom before Sherlock has pressed his lips together once more in a desperate movement.

It hadn't been until then that Lestrade noticed how hot he felt and that he was feeling so drunk for Sherlock's body that he had forgotten to get rid of his own jacket. For luck, Sherlock made sure to get him out of it as soon as possible, throwing it to the floor, leaving him wondering for a short second if he had just read his mind.

It surprised him when Sherlock started rolling his hips against Lestrade's, provoking some noisy and hungrily groans on both sides.

"Lie down there," said the consulting detective once he had broken apart from him and stood up. Greg quickly toed off his shoes and obeyed, watching Sherlock lean over the bedside table and take out of the first drawer what appeared to be a tube of lubricant and a condom. He dropped them on the mattress and climbed back onto the bed to resume his former position on Lestrade's lap.

This is definitely, _definitely_ going to happen, Lestrade thought again.

"D-do you need help?" he asked him when Sherlock opened the cap of the lubricant tube and had spread some of the liquid on his fingers.

He shook his head in response before bringing his hand behind his back and start working. Greg wanted to see more of what was going on down there, but he felt as if his brain had short-circuited when he saw the enthusiasm in the younger's expressive face; his red lips half-open and his eyes closed, focused on the task with his hand, letting out low moans occasionally. Lestrade continued to rub his legs, encouraging him with soft words to motivate him to keep going and think about what they would do next. From time to time, Sherlock couldn't help but rubbing the front of his underwear against Lestrade's, leaving him gasping for air. It was intoxicated.

"I'm ready," he announced once he raised his hand from his back a few minutes later, but Lestrade looked at him worried.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you…"

"I'm fine," he assured him sharply, taking the condom wrapped and carefully opening it with his teeth, and in a quick motion, Sherlock lifted himself so he could undo the button on Greg's trousers and pull them along the underwear down, he helped him by lifting his hips so Sherlock could roll the condom over his erection now, Greg hissed at the sensation and a malicious smile formed between Sherlock's red lips. "Ready?" he asked, and Lestrade only dared to nod. He was as ready as he ever imagined he'd be for Sherlock with all the aroused behind him.

Lestrade was waiting for Sherlock to take off his own underwear to get a better view of him, but the moment never came and instead, he took Greg's prick with one hand, Sherlock was more delicate than Greg had expected, pushed aside the panties and positioned the erection at his entrance taking his time almost too slow than expected it made Lestrade wonder if he had lied about being prepared enough for the intrusion, but it wasn't long before the gland got in and he began to lower his body sinking himself in. Sherlock gasped as he was almost completely positioned, and once he was able to release the hold on Greg's cock he brought both hands to rest flat on Lestrade's chest. Sherlock hissed before closing his eyes, still with his mouth half-open, not entirely moving yet. Greg had to bite his lip so he wouldn't thrust against the other man right away. It felt incredibly tight and warm, and Greg wasn't sure if he would last too long.

Finally, Sherlock opened his eyes and Greg noticed some tears threatening to come out.

"Are you alright? We can stop..."

Sherlock shook his head and smiled, cleaning the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You feel bigger than I expected," he admitted breathly, lowering his head, and Greg blushed, but Sherlock squeezed his hand a little on his chest, grabbing his shirt with it and looked at him too confident. "I'm fine, stop worrying so much, I really want this and _right now_."

Lestrade scowled briefly but nodded in response and grabbed one of Sherlock's hands so he could kiss it on the back. He wanted to pull the other man to kiss his lips instead so much, but he decided to let him be in charge for the moment. The only thing he wanted was for Sherlock to feel good. He left his hands on Greg's chest again and without any warning, he began to move slowly.

"Christ," Greg panted, throwing his head back onto the pillow to recover for a second before placing his hands in Sherlock's thighs again for some comfort while the other continued to rocking lazily, Greg heard his breath hitching.

Lestrade glanced up, meeting Sherlock's gaze, and as if he had read his mind again, he leaned his body down so that he could brush his lips together for a moment before opening them and joining their tongues as he continued to roll his hips back and forth against him, this time speeding the rhythm. Lestrade hugged him by the waist, still battling to stop himself from thrusting his own hips up.

Deep down from Sherlock's throat Greg heard a strangled noise that never thought he could hear, part of him hoped to treasure those memories in his head for the rest of his days; the noises, how he felt, the warmth of his body. But it wasn't long before the sounds started coming out of his mouth too. Lestrade would never have imagined that Sherlock would be so noisy during sex, but he was proud of himself to find out this way, buried deep inside of him.

"Fuck, Lestrade," he groaned against his lips when it seemed he found the exact spot inside him. And Greg decided to ignore the fact that even in that situation, the idiot wasn't able to say his first name, so he only rolled his eyes and lowered his hands a little lower to Sherlock's hips, holding him tighter, and now he was the one in charge of marking the speed of his movements. Sherlock had seemed to lose the ability to articulate any coherent word, and the panting and moaning only intensified in the room while Greg was sure he was still getting the exact spot inside him. Sherlock planted one more kiss over Lestrade's lips before hiding his face between the space between his neck and shoulder.

As Lestrade continued to lead the movement, he tried sliding one of his hands from his hip to Sherlock's crotch, between their pressed bodies, but he quickly removed it placing it back where it was and shook slightly his head instead.

"I think... I think…" he tried to say between more gasps and a few short kisses on his neck, "I want to try finishing like this - don't you dare to stop."

" _Fuck_ , Sherlock."

During the previous sex encounters with men he had had, Greg had never managed to get one of his partners to come that way before and the only thought of Sherlock being able to do so with him, and the first time they were together, it was bringing him to the edge.

Then it hit him; Sherlock's body began to tighten and clenching around him, followed by a few spasms from his body, and he felt teeth gripping into his collarbone as he was trying to hide some strangled moans. He hissed at the pressure and sudden pain but let Sherlock continue his release until he was completely still, his lips on Lestrade's skin, where he could feel the warm breath, but at least the teeth had disappeared from their place. Sherlock sighed before getting up and moving again, grabbing him by the shirt to hold the balance. There was a calmness in his face that Greg had never seen before, but before having the time to appreciate it any further, he placed his feet on the mattress, flexing his knees, ready for his own release. And after barely a few more thrusts against the other man's body, the orgasm spiked through him and he found himself panting Sherlock's name in the air, squeezing tightly the skin on his hip, closing his eyes and feeling like the whole world was spinning around them.

They both continued panting for another moment before Sherlock got up to tumble on his stomach next to Lestrade.

"Would you...?" Sherlock raised a hand to point with his thumb at the back where his corset still tightened to his body, and Lestrade nodded, helping him loosen the loops on his back to free him. From what it could be seen, Greg noticed the red marks on his pale skin. That definitely had been tighter than it looked and Sherlock had just managed to have sex with it.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

"I am," Sherlock replied, moving his head to the other side, facing him and smiling. He looked completely shagged. "Perfectly and wonderfully well. Remarkably well. Magnifi…"

Lestrade interrupted chuckling out loud, "I feel the same way," he confessed, now leaning over to kiss his sweaty forehead. Sherlock looked at him in surprise when he pulled back, but Greg decided to ignore it, feeling a little embarrassed showing his affection immediately afterwards. Maybe Sherlock didn't expect this to happen again and he really couldn't blame him. Lestrade cleared his throat and got rid of the condom, he tied it up and pulling up his underwear and trousers, he stood up to throw it in the bathroom's bin.

When he returned, he found Sherlock sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, he was still wearing the bra but playing with the corset over his lap. He stared at him when he heard him back, with a new expression on his face.

"I really liked it," he said without breaking the gaze. "Lestrade, I want this to happen again... if you're willing, of course."

Greg's stomach twitched. He didn't remember Sherlock Holmes ever looking so insecure and exposed in his life. He blinked at him a few times before taking a seat in front of him on the mattress.

"Of course I'm willing," he grinned to reassure him and Sherlock did it too, nodding.

"Possibly not wearing this again," he said, pointing to the disaster he had become in his drag clothes.

"I agree," Greg said, placing a hand on Sherlock's knee, where his stocking looked a bit ragged. "Although I like it."

"Have we discovered a fetish, Detective Inspector?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow, making Lestrade laugh.

"I don't know, maybe?" He shrugged with the big smile stuck on his lips. The one Sherlock made disappear with his own lips when he leaned to kiss him. "Let me help you take all that off," he offered once they pulled away.

"Molly left me a make-up remover set," he told him when he stood up. Lestrade had forgotten that Sherlock had never removed those possibly uncomfortable high heels, but he didn't seem to have been bothered on their previous activity on the bed as he walked into the living room in search of his bag.

When he returned, Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed while Lestrade stood in front of him to remove gently any make-up residue on his face with one of the wet wipes Molly had left him. Once he was done, Sherlock took one and ran it over the inspector's lips. They both laughed.

"I always imagined you'd be a caring lover," Sherlock commented after finally taking his heels off.

"Did you imagine it?" he asked blushing. "With me?"

Sherlock looked up at him, his face's expression blank for a moment as if what he had just said wasn't weird at all between two men who had been working together for years.

"Why does it even surprises you?" He shrugged, now lowering his gaze to get rid of the straps on his stockings. "I've been attracted to you since I met you."

Lestrade blinked at him in confusion. He didn't expect to hear something like that.

"I wasn't aware of that." He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to think about this new information.

"Mhmm…" Sherlock let out before standing up and passing by his side towards the wardrobe, grabbing clothes out of it, he walked to the bathroom. Lestrade sat down on the bed again, wondering if he had ruined anything in any way, but Sherlock spoke again. "You didn't feel the same way, of course. I did know that," he said from the other room.

Lestrade frowned.

"Well, for me you were just a junkie kid who came to spit over our work," he let go with a little more bitterness than he intended, so he tried to fix it, "And then... I still saw you like a junkie kid, but whom I really wanted to help."

Sherlock returned to the room wearing pyjama pants and an old T-shirt, holding the clothes he had just taken off in his hands. He looked at him with a serious look in his eyes.

"Well, you _did_ ," he commented as the expression on his face softened, he walked to the chair in the corner and plopped the clothes there, going back to the closet on the side of the bed, he pulled out another T-shirt and offered it to Lestrade. "You'll stay, won't you?"

"There's no other place I'd rather be right now," he confessed with a grin and Sherlock snorted as he rolled his eyes.

"I ruined your shirt, by the way. Tomorrow you'll want to go home before going back to the office."

Lestrade lowered his chin to see the trace of lipstick around his chest and collar of the shirt but didn't give it much significance. He took off his damaged shirt throwing it where the pile of Sherlock’s clothes was, and put on the t-shirt he had been offered. He took his trousers off too and picked up the jacket from the floor, leaving all in the same place.

Sherlock was looking at him with a raised eyebrow when Greg turned to the bed.

Suddenly Lestrade had felt insecure, even though Sherlock had already let him know in different ways that he was interested in him, there was something inside his head that he still doubted, as if Lestrade wasn't capable of deserving it all.

"Lestrade," Sherlock began to speak, pulling him out of his thoughts, "I recommend you to come to sleep and stop thinking. Tomorrow Bailey's report in the office awaits you and some possible expecting looks from your team.

"Sorry?"

Sherlock smirked and made a vague motion with his hand towards Lestrade's neck before getting under the covers and letting rest his head on the pillow.

"I may have left some marks on your neck," he said with indifference and then offered him an innocent smile. "Blame the heat of the moment," he said before turning on his side and giving his back to Greg.

"Bastard," he muttered when he turned off the light of the lamp. He followed the other's instructions to lie behind him and wrapped his arm around the waist, trying his best to obey and stop thing to finally rest with the smile still on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Sherlock lip-synched is [I Wanna Be a Toy, by Dead or Alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUQwV8_I8dg).  
> And I don't know, but the image of Sherlock I had as in Drag was [Violet Chachki](https://66.media.tumblr.com/eca7c0e11af2941cbca94112d5314679/tumblr_pxloks0jec1qae7nlo3_r1_1280.jpg) from RuPaul's Drag Race. I can totally see him with that personality...  
> Also, I chose that Drag name from a random generator on the internet, where it also chose that spilling the tea would be their speciality, and I thought it suited him xD


End file.
